She’s only ever worn the clothes provided to her by her father and the costumes Satan’s Affair had in their houses. So, she just ordered a bunch of random shit in whatever size, most of it ill-fitting.
Sibby is tiny. Her stature only comes to about five-two, and she has very little meat on her bones. Addie glances at me, regret on both of our faces for not monitoring her while she shopped.
“Literally, everyone is going to notice you. You’re supposed to blend in, not stand out like a sore thumb.”
Her brows pinch. “You’re saying I look like someone’s thumb?”
Addie bites her lip. “Let’s trade jackets. You can wear mine, Sibby.”
Sibby grumbles but ultimately switches with her. Addie slides on the hot pink puffer and zips it up, the coat not fitting her any better. The grin that slides on my face is nearly slapped off the second Addie spots it.
She points a finger at me, the material swishing from the movement. “I will fuck you up.”
“It’s cute, baby,” I say, grinning wider when she narrows her eyes, giving me a look that promises death and destruction.
I’d love to see her try.
I grab a black beanie and slide it over Sibby’s head and then wrap a thick, black scarf around her neck to help conceal the bottom half of her face, feeling every bit like a father dressing their child.
Despite her wanted status, she’s the least recognizable, aside from Daya. And as much as I would prefer Addie’s best friend instead, Sibby was very excited about being helpful. She’s been cooped up in the manor for the past month, going even more insane than she already is.
It was vital we get her out of the house before she says fuck it and openly fucks her imaginary henchmen on the dining room table. She’s already come close to it, and Addie and I were both deeply traumatized by that event.
I hand her a Bluetooth and instruct her on how to use it, sighing when she asks if her henchmen can have one, too. She claims they’ll get worried if they can’t hear what’s happening.
“You know they can’t all come, right?” I remind her. She twists her lips and nods.
“Mortis and Jackal are gonna come this time. So only they need one.”
I indulge her and hand over two more, which she promptly passes to empty air, the devices dropping to the ground. I’ll have to pick those up when she’s not looking.
When she smiles, satisfied, I move on to the body cam, hooking it to her coat and adjusting it to make sure it’s at a good angle.
“Don’t touch this. I need to see everything you’re doing. I’ll be in your ear guiding you, so listen to everything I say,” I tell her sternly.
She waves a hand, and giggles. “I know. You don’t have to worry, Zade. I promise I’m not going to run off.”
“Or murder someone,” Addie grumbles from beside me.
Sibby looks to Addie. “If a demon is around, I’ll let that one go. I can sacrifice one or two if it means taking out the biggest one of them all.”
Good enough for me. As long as she listens.
After she’s set to go, Addie stuffs herself into the passenger seat next to me, and we drive to Jimmy’s office, forced to park a couple of blocks away. Sibby will have to walk the rest of the way, and this is the part I’m the most worried about. She’s bundled up and hardly recognizable beneath all the material, but Sibby has a definite… uniqueness to her.
Which she instantly proves when she hops out of the backseat, slams the door, and starts skipping down the sidewalk like a goddamn buffoon.
I groan, swiveling my laptop towards me and pulling up the live feed from her body cam. Addie leans into me to get a better view of the screen, enveloping me in her sweet jasmine scent. I inhale deeply, tempted to take a bite out of her just because she smells divine.
Soon. I’ll do that soon.
Her face is twisted into a mixture of amusement and concern.
Concern for the mission or concern for Sibby’s mental state, it’s hard to tell.
Addie has softened to Sibby, though. While still wary of her—which is the smartest thing to be—I think she sees Sibby for who she is. A lost girl looking for love and friendship. Even when she’s talking to her henchmen or irrationally angry because I ate the last Pop Tart—Pop Tarts I bought, by the way—she’s sweet, incredibly loyal, and pretty funny.
I still don’t know what the hell we’re going to do with her yet, but I’ll figure it out after Claire is taken care of.
Sibby is still skipping down 5th Avenue, earning looks ranging from I see this shit every day to I’m so tired of seeing this shit every day. She’s not the slightest bit perturbed by the negative attention.